when it all comes down to dust
by auburnnothenna
Summary: Rescue and psychosis. Another 'Crossings' AU.


Title: when it all comes down to dust   
Author/email: Auburn at booklover@saber.net  
Fandom: Alias   
Spoilers: _Crossings_, Season Three.   
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment, not profit. Characters and premise are property of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot.   
Rating: R.   
Summary: Rescue and psychosis. One of four alternatue universe versions of _Crossings_. 

* * *

**_ when it all comes down to dust_**

_**Sydney** _

- shaking cold stone behind head shivering cold air shuddering cold cold bitter aching muscles bruises seizing frost air blood on lip Vaughn's taste bitter bitter nothing look at him don't look at him bite lip more blood no way out stare straight ahead ready cold hurts no way out close eyes open eyes not in the dark too bitter no escape this time hopeless looking into the muzzles of the guns black holes cheap Chinese knock-offs ready ready stand still shaking AKMs shatter sound shout clatter yelling eyes squeezed shut again rigid waiting nothing- 

**_Sark_**

- too many agendas, lies, secrets, plans, deceits, conflicting loyalties, miseries, losses, griefs - 

He breathes in and squeezes the trigger. 

**_Vaughn_**

It's almost a relief, a release from two intolerable desires. He knows Lauren will survive without him, better than he survived without Sydney. She won't dive into a bottle and he won't have to choose between his marriage and his obsession. He turns his head and stares at Sydney, clean and upright as a marble goddess. She meets his look with a trembling smile and no words, then faces forward again. Always, always, she's facing forward, marching forward, braving what would break anyone else. But she's done it alone too many times and if this is the end, then he's grateful to be by her side. He's selfish and he's a coward, because he'd rather die next to her than endure without her. Even if that leaves Lauren alone, even though he knows Sydney doesn't want it that way. 

He looks into the guns and waits for the order to come. 

He won't know the words, but he'll know when it comes. 

**_Sark _**

No time for subtly, no time for headshots and individual kills. He selects autofire and empties the first clip in a sweep. The second clip is waiting and slapped into the receiver like taking his next breath and he begins firing neat five-shot groups, putting down anyone still moving on the killing ground. 

It's easy, easy as breathing, because he's so good at this, at turning the tables and at killing. 

Is it easy because he likes it or does he like it because it's easy? 

**Sydney**

- nothing nothing - 

- open eyes and it's soldiers falling blood spray puppets undone strings cut flailing falling spinning shouting AKMs turning away from her and Vaughn someone else something else automatic fire dropping too bright loud surreal the stock of one cheap knock-off shatters as it hits the pavement and then its silence hollow echoing ringing in the ears silence because the gunfire has stopped - 

- a figure rising from cover walks stalks strides along the top of a wall gilt light edged assault rifle in one hand savior angel hair bright halo pale sunshine fallen dropping off the wall and into the world into the real - 

- stalking grace predator lithe certain moving hunting through the bodies unconcerned son of the morning searching crouching riffling careless burnt powder smoke steam lifting from opened wounds bodies throat catches and he rises, bright brass flash through air catch keys - 

**_Vaughn_**

He follows the arc of the toss in disbelief. Sark has the rifle aimed at them now, but it's more a precaution than a threat. Sydney catches the keys and immediately fingers through them, finding the one that will unlock their manacles. 

"Sark?" he croaked. 

"Ah, I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here?" Sark smiled, enjoying their shock. 

"You could say that." Vaughn's throat was still desert dry. A minute ago he'd been about to die before a firing squad. Now he was alive and they were dead and Sydney was staring daggers at the enemy who had just saved them. The world wobbled on its axis. 

"He's playing his own game," Sydney said. She flung down her manacles, a clang of links on stone, and came over to Vaughn's side, working the key into the rusty lock to free him too. "Aren't you, Sark?" 

"Aren't we all, Ms. Bristow?" 

"No, we aren't, you selfish bastard," she snapped. 

Vaughn smiled proudly. 

Sark's lips quirked and he gestured toward the door back into the depot. "Once Ms. Bristow is finished getting those chains off you, please proceed back inside. I have a mission to finish." 

Sydney turned the key in the last manacle and pulled it off Vaughn's ankle. Her face turned up to his and she mouthed, "Be ready." Her hand tightened around the manacle and he realized she meant to throw it at Sark. She wanted him to go for one of the fallen soldier's weapons while she engaged the terrorist. He tried to let her know with a look that he understood. 

"Please refrain from whatever you think you're about to do, Ms. Bristow," Sark said. 

Vaughn jerked his head up and found Sark had the stock of the assault rifle tucked against his shoulder, aiming it at him. He'd hit Vaughn if he fired. No doubt about that. 

"If you proceed, I'll be forced to cripple Agent Vaughn. You know I have very little compunction about pulling the trigger." 

Syd hissed and let the manacle fall out of her hand. 

"So," Vaughn asked, "what next?" 

_**Sark**_

Honor is a word chiseled on gravestones. 

Sooner or later he's sold out everyone he ever knew and why not? They've all done their best to do him in. It was his own father who taught him to get the first blow in. Project Christmas gave him the tools, Sloane taught him there were no limits, and Irina, black-hearted, beautiful Irina, finished his education. Hit them when they're up, kick them when they're down, never leave an enemy alive at your back, and they're all enemies in the end. 

Even milksop Agent Vaughn can turn and bite sometimes; he had that driven home in Stockholm and spent two years regretting that he didn't ignore his orders and take both agents out when he spotted them. He considers himself lucky the lesson only cost him time, just as his freedom only cost him money. 

People will surprise you like that, fail you, shed their skins of compassion to reveal the snarling beast of survival, which is why he's learned to rely on and trust no one. 

It's all transactions now. 

Look at Allison. She fucking wavered and look what it got her. Ally would have shoved a knife in Sark's back any day of the week, but she couldn't do it to Tippin. He found her bleeding on floor, because the reporter was a better survivor. Which went to show something, but he thought the lesson was probably lost on her by then. 

Jolly good, Mr. William 'Jonah' Tippin, now run back to your rabbit hole and pull it in after you. 

He sends the CIA agents inside first, strolls in after them until they reach the cell holding his current target. He ignores the man's desperate pleas to the CIA agents, pulls the pistol from his shoulder holster, levels it between the cell door's bars, and puts the bullet between the whining waste-of-time's eyes. 

He considers using two more bullets and giving Irina a ring. 

He could tell her about the test-tube he took out of Patagonia, the one in cryogenic storage, that even the Covenant doesn't know about. But he'd rather have her owing him. He'll tell Sydney instead and buy her with the unborn. 

_**Sydney** _

- have to move soon neck prickles adrenaline burn sick fear fading angry is easier get the upper hand back he's Covenant now killers burning her children in glass need a plan mission's fucked Vaughn no too slow sorry shit - 

_**Sark**_

Moving fast now, proceeding to the next order of business, switching sides, he laughs darkly to himself, switch hitting, and he's taking them both by surprise. They couldn't think he was really their ally. Not hard with Vaughn, but Sydney is fast, he clubs her in the head first with the butt of the rifle. She goes down too easy, the Koreans must have worked her over before. But she won't stay down. 

**_Vaughn_**

"Syd - " 

Sark sends her to the floor with a fast, unflinching blow and he's coming at Vaughn, intelligent and alien as an orca and combat is his ocean, cold and unforgiving. Vaughn tries to meet him, to anticipate, but Sark is already winning - 

- Fuck. Shattering pain and darkness flooding in after it. 

Losing again. 

**_Sark_**

- spins and brings the rifle across Vaughn's chest in a blow that cracks ribs and up, slamming into that cleft chin and Vaughn's green eyes roll back. 

Drops and rolls under Bristow's kick, loses the rifle and catches her leg, leverage, twist and she's off balance. He uses the momentum and throws her to the stone floor, face down, drops his knee into the small of her back, wraps his hands around her wrists and twists the up behind her shoulder blades. 

She bucks furiously. 

He leans close and whispers in her ear, jerking his face to side just in time as she throws her head back and almost breaks his nose, "Calm down, dear Ms. Bristow, I have something to tell you you'll want to hear." 

He's enjoying this immensely. 

"I'm going to kill you," she grits out. "Have your fun, but I swear I will kill you some day." 

He laughs. Does she think he's going to rape her? 

"Did you think you got them all?" 

She's rigid, muscles tensed, beneath him. He imagines riding a tiger, but she's more dangerous. No tiger could seduce him, but she might. He'd like to kill her for that, but he won't. Tensile steel and incandescent fury bound into such a deceptive form, he can feel her heat. She could melt him, if he let her. She's a concentrated dose of his favorite drug, adrenaline personified. 

"What are you babbling about?" she asks carefully. 

"All the little Sydney ova." 

Her wrists are so slight. He can hold them both in one hand. With the other, he strokes her dirty hair away from her face, sees the snarl etched into her features. She'll tear him to pieces if he offers even one opening. 

"Don't worry, I have them somewhere safe, somewhere even the Covenant can't find." He's trailing his fingers through her hair, reveling in the thrill of besting her. "I took the samples that were unfertilized." 

"What do you want, Sark?" 

"Hmmn. - Answers, perhaps." He smiles and whispers. "Power. A trade. I'll decide later." 

"You didn't use to be this crazy." 

"No," he agrees. "I didn't know my dear father was still around either." 

"He's not," Sydney says quickly. "A sniper - " 

"That's so very convenient, don't you think?" Sark replies. "Did you see an autopsy?" 

"No." 

"Then don't be so sure." 

"Do you want him dead?" 

He eased back. "I'm not sure. Perhaps I just want to kill him myself." 

Sydney has relaxed ever so faintly as they speak. In reward, Sark lifts enough weight off her she can go on breathing. She twists her face to the side, trying to see his face. 

"Why?" 

"Look in the mirror some time, dear Sydney," he says, before wrapping his elbow around her throat and choking her unconscious. 

_**Vaughn**_

There's blood in his mouth, every breath is a spear of agony, and his teeth feel loose, but he's alive. He pries his eyes open and finds the black form of a cell phone on the filthy floor next to his hand. Beside it is a hand gun. 

He rolls on to his side then his knees and almost blacks out again. He waits out the pain and blearily spots Sydney sprawled next to him. 

The soft flutter of a strand of hair over her mouth tells him she's alive too. Confused, he looks around, but they're alone. Her eyes open when he roughly shakes her shoulder. 

"Syd. Syd. We've got to get out of here." 

**Sark**

" - Next time there will be a price, Katya." 

But this time he had fun. 

**Sydney**

_- no regrets conscience hesitation who pierced your heart on a shard of ice? _

  
_When it all comes down to dust,  
I will kill you if I must   
I'll help you if I can.   
When it all comes down to dust,   
I will help you if I must,   
I'll kill you if I can.   
  
**Story of Isaac - Leonard Cohen**_

____________________________________________

_Auburn, 2004_


End file.
